


Duality

by devcord



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, No Civilian Kills | Not Even Once, Vampire McCullum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devcord/pseuds/devcord
Summary: Jonathan turned McCullum in a fit of anger. He tried to make up for what he had done, then realised it might not be as big of a mistake as he thought it was.





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> First post on this site even though I've had this account for ages. 
> 
> If you turn McCullum and have not killed anyone by the time you meet up with him in the cemetery, McCullum will grudgingly admit that Jonathan is "a decent fellow for a vampire". I found this dynamic between them interesting and decided to write about it, then the thing just got longer and longer because they wouldn't stop arguing.
> 
> Some of the dialogue came straight from the cemetery scene in the game.

Jonathan walked away from Edger and slipped out of the room, leaving the man alone to wait for death to come. He should stay, he knew. It was the least he could do for the man who had helped him so much since his rebirth. It was the _only_ thing he could do. The wounds the Guard had inflicted on Edger were fatal. There was nothing to be done. Not unless he let Edger drink his blood. 

Edger would live then, and Pembroke would not lose its head in this crucial time. But just as Jonathan had refused to turn Aloysius Dawson, he had decided against saving Edger in this manner. He couldn't. Not after seeing what his blood had done to Mary. It was not a cure. It was a curse.

At that thought, the full impact of what had happened at Pembroke hit him. In his rush to rescue Edger, he had ignored the guilt twisting inside him, but now —

_Dear God, what has he done?_

He already knew the answer, of course _._ He had no idea what he was doing when he kissed his poor sister goodbye, but this time he knew what he had done. He knew _exactly_ what he had done to Geoffrey McCullum.

He sneaked out of Doris Fletcher’s theatre. From there, he jumped onto a nearby balcony, then onto the next, taking the high ground to avoid McCullum’s men as he ran back to Pembroke. He spotted a couple of rats inside an abandoned house, but he dared not stop even though he was starving. He needed to get back to the hospital before McCullum woke up. 

There was no fixing his mistake, but he had to salvage the situation somehow, or at least to keep it from becoming a full-blown disaster. As if turning McCullum against his will wasn’t bad enough, he had left the hunter alone at the hospital. He should have known better. He damn well should have known better. If anything happened to the hospital staff or the patients because McCullum couldn’t control his bloodlust, Jonathan — and no doubt the hunter as well — would never forgive himself. 

He kept running. The fact that he somehow _knew_ McCullum was close to awakening was unsettling in and of itself. Vampire blood completely changed a human’s body, yes, but this was beyond physical transformation. Creating a mental connection between two individuals with blood, even vampire blood, should not be possible. 

Then again, Jonathan’s own Maker had already demonstrated that it _was_ possible. He wondered how exactly it worked. He had not been able to sense Mary, so what was different now? Was it because his abilities had grown, or because he was aware of what he had done this time and was actively reaching out for the vampire hunter?

_The vampire hunter who is now a vampire._

Not even Edger’s death could justify Jonathan’s action. McCullum had been right about the vampire epidemic originating from Pembroke, after all, and about Edger’s involvement in it. And since Jonathan was both a blood specialist _and_ a vampire, it was only logical to think he was involved as well. 

Even though Jonathan considered Edger a dear friend, he couldn’t say the man didn’t deserve what had been done to him. He had told Edger as much in the theatre, knowing full well those words would _hurt_ but deciding to say them anyway. 

The dark side of the Reids, his father had called it. Jonathan knew he was perfectly capable of cruelty, especially when he lost control of his anger, as he had during his fight with McCullum. Only this time, he had done far worse than uttering a few hurtful words.

The fight itself had been a long and brutal one. Jonathan had tried reasoning at first, doing all he could to convince the hunter that they shared the same goal and that they were wasting time by fighting each other. But soon, it became apparent that McCullum would not listen. Jonathan wasn’t even sure if the hunter had heard a single word of his argument, what with all the taunting and name-calling and filling the whole bloody place with light to “cleanse" him. By the end of the fight, Jonathan was out of patience, in pain from the burns, and very close to losing control. 

It was the doctor who was losing control, not the vampire. The vampire would have sunk his fangs in and drained McCullum of his blood, but Jonathan had vowed not to and always maintained a tight control over that part of himself. 

The doctor, though… the doctor was seething with indignation and fury that had been building up for weeks. He had been doing his utmost to continue living as he had, and to not let his condition affect his duty to his patients, but McCullum and his men never let him be. They hunted him down like a beast, burning him with fire wherever he went when he was only trying to bring medicines to those who needed them. He knew the Guard had been watching him, but no matter what he did, no matter how many people he had helped, it was never enough. 

“I never asked to become what I am, hunter,” Jonathan had said as he looked down at McCullum. “I had a life before I was turned and I refuse to give it up. How hard is that to understand?”

McCullum had answered with a sneer. “You're nothing but a corpse animated by evil, _doctor_. Don't try and fool yourself.”

Those words hit home and tore apart whatever was left of Jonathan’s self-restraint. If McCullum would not listen, then he would _make_ the hunter see what he had gone through in the last few weeks.  The thirst. The fear of being discovered and of losing control. And in the end, the realisation that it was not about nature, but about choices.

It was not just about proving a point, of course. No, it was very much also about revenge and a part of Jonathan relished the idea of McCullum being hunted just like him.  

Or at least he had felt that way back at the hospital, in the heat of the moment. Now, Jonathan cringed as he remembered how terrified McCullum had been and pushed himself to run faster.

But he was not fast enough. He was still in Whitechapel when he felt it. McCullum had awakened, confused, in pain, and thirsty. So very, very _thirsty_. 

Jonathan couldn't tell where McCullum was or what he was doing, but he knew there was only one way out of the room the hunter was in. It would lead to an elevator, which would bring the hunter to the second floor of the hospital, and then to the first floor. From there, he was only one flight of stairs away from the hospital staff and patients, who wouldn’t stand a chance against a hungry Ekon. 

_Don’t, McCullum!_

Jonathan projected his thoughts towards the direction of the hospital. His scientific mind insisted it was impossible, but whatever his Maker had left in him that let him manipulate blood and shadow at will was telling him he _could._

_Not them, Geoffrey. I know it hurts, but you must resist. Just for a while longer. Trust me._

~~~

_A few nights later…_

~~~

Geoffrey pushed open the gate to Stonebridge Cemetery and made his way to his mentor’s grave. He had walked this path many times before, but it felt different tonight. The place seemed brighter than it used to be. Even though there was barely any light, he could make out the names on the gravestones and even the cracks on the walls. The shadows shrouding the trees would have put him on edge, but now they felt almost welcoming. Everything seemed different, and yet in reality they were the same. Or maybe it was the other way around. He didn’t bloody care. 

He needed to fight something. A Skal or five would lift his mood. But there was nothing lurking nearby. He would know if there was.

He walked up the last flight of stairs and stopped before Carl’s grave. For a moment, he had no idea what to say. He could talk about the Guard and the new recruits as he usually did, or talk about the epidemic and how London’s streets seemed to be crawling with infected Skals these days. But that was not why he was here, was it?

“The boys didn’t notice a thing, but you can tell, can’t you?” said Geoffrey. “Yes, a leech got me. A fucking newborn, no less.”

He wondered what Carl would have done in his position. Hunted down the bastard who turned him and then shot himself, most likely. Or made Geoffrey kill him, as some sort of final lesson.

“I’m not you, Carl. I’m not going to kill myself or do any of that shit. Call me what you want, but I won't die like that.”

He felt so powerful now. His speed. His reflexes. His strength. And he was still adapting and learning. Soon, he would get even stronger. He could become the greatest vampire hunter ever.

“I am still me,” said Geoffrey. “My goal stays the same.”

Carl would not believe him, of course. Geoffrey would not have believed himself just two days ago. But here he was, a leech himself. 

_I had a life before I was turned and I refuse to give it up. How hard is that to understand?_

“Damn you, Reid,” he muttered, then looked back at the name and the Priwen symbol on the gravestone. “I know, Carl. I know what you must be thinking. Give me time. I will prove to you.”

Carl would have shot him in the face before he had even finished talking. Not that Geoffrey would have let him. 

Ian had wanted to speak to him, too, before Geoffrey killed him. Geoffrey had tried, in the last two days, to recall what his brother had said in that final moment, but he couldn’t. 

He straightened up and turned around when he sensed something coming. The world seemingly faded to black as he concentrated. And there, he saw them. Three Skals and a Sewer Beast. Their blood glowed bright red in his vision, calling to him. 

This would be suicide if he were human. As it was, he smirked and pulled out his sword. A Skal leaped at him. He jumped back to avoid it, then lunged forward and slashed the beast across the chest. The smell of blood filled his senses and he could feel his fangs touching his lower lips. With a snarl, he grabbed the Skal’s head with his free hand, twisted it to the side, then bit into its throat, drinking it dry. 

His hunger momentarily sated, Geoffrey tossed the beast away and stepped back. For a moment, the image of his father tearing out his mother’s throat — in much the same way Geoffrey had just done — flashed across his mind again. He pushed the unwanted thought away; after two days, it was getting easier. The disgusting taste of Skal’s blood helped too. 

_Not humans. He would not drink from humans. Never._

He licked the blood from his lips and readied his sword again. The Sewer Beast lunged at him. He dodged left, then swung his sword towards one of the Skals. It leaped back with a shriek. Before Geoffrey could make another move, the shadows under the Skal shifted, holding it in place. Geoffrey tensed as he sensed a new presence behind him, then relaxed. Somehow, even without looking, he knew who it was.

 _Not an enemy_.

The fight ended quickly after that. With Reid’s shadows aiding Geoffrey, the Skals and the Sewer Beast stood no chance. Not that Geoffrey couldn’t have dealt with them on his own, of course.

He sheathed his sword and walked back towards Carl’s grave. Reid would follow, he knew, and no doubt ask what he was doing here. The doctor was notoriously nosy. 

As expected, Reid walked up to him. “Good evening, vampire hunter.”

Geoffrey turned around to face him. “Are you here mock me, Reid?”

“Not at all,” said Reid. “I only want to see how you’ve been… adapting.”

Geoffrey would have taken it as mockery, but the doctor looked genuinely concerned.

“I heard your voice in my head,” he said instead of answering the question. “What did you do to me?”

“You were gone by the time I returned,” said Reid. “But the hospital staff and patients… they were all safe.”

“Of course they were!” Geoffrey snapped. 

The truth was he couldn't recall much of what had happened when he first woke up as a vampire. There was the hunger, the smell of blood, and then a voice, telling him to resist. He vaguely remembered jumping out of a window because the voice said he couldn’t have what was inside the hospital. Then something bit him, so he bit back and _drank_. When the world returned to focus, there were three dead Skals around him. To be sure, he had checked his men’s reports. There were no citizen deaths around Pembroke that night.

“Had it not been for you, doctor, no one would have been endangered in the first place,” said Geoffrey.

Reid let out a long breath. “I know.” 

“You haven’t answered me,” said Geoffrey. “What weird shit did you do to me?”

Reid tilted his head. “You said you heard my voice in your head. Was it just once, or… all the time?”

What kind of question was that?

“Once,” said Geoffrey. “Two nights ago.”

“I see,” said Reid, seemingly relaxed. “My Maker was able to talk to me this way. Apparently I have the same ability.”

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Reid looked towards the other side of the cemetery, then back at Geoffrey. “What do you know about my sister’s murder?”

“You killed her,” Geoffrey answered easily. 

It was the first and only innocent life Reid had taken since becoming a vampire. Geoffrey had once thought it was some kind of sick game, because Reid’s behaviour made no sense. If the doctor could kill even his own sister, then why hadn’t he killed again, opting to feed on rats instead?

Now Geoffrey knew the answer. He had experienced the same uncontrollable hunger himself when he first woke up.

“Twice,” said Reid.

Geoffrey blinked. “What?”

“My sister. I killed her twice."

“What do you mean?”

“I turned her,” said Reid. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I kissed her goodbye and some of my blood touched her lips.”

Vaguely, Geoffrey remembered Reid saying something similar before turning him. And then there were the rumours of the Brotherhood being interested in a leech who was powerful enough to _accidentally_ sire someone and create a progeny just as strong.

“Shit.”

Reid gave him a weak smile, then sobered up. “Mary said she kept hearing my voice in her head, but I didn’t even know she was alive, let alone trying to speak to her.”

“But when I heard your voice that day, it was deliberate, right?” said Geoffrey. 

“Yes,” said Reid. “I believe I can now control it.”

Geoffrey looked at him, mildly alarmed. _God, he was making it up as he went along, wasn’t he?_

“And you said you knew what you were doing.”

Reid shook his head and fell silent. Geoffrey was reminded, again, that the doctor had only been a vampire for a few weeks. He snorted and looked down at his mentor’s grave, wondering what Carl would think of this terrifying creature, or the fact that this conversation had lasted as long as it had without turning violent.

Geoffrey looked up at Reid again when the doctor shifted. Reid met his eyes, his expression sombre. 

“I’m so sorry, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey let out a short, humourless laugh. “Was that what you said to your sister too?”

It was a low blow, but what else could Geoffrey say? Reid had killed him and made him a monster. What else could anyone say in this situation? 

Reid looked away and they fell silent again. A moment later, Geoffrey spoke up. 

“I feel so powerful now it gives me shivers,” he said. “I could be the greatest vampire hunter ever.”

“Will you hunt me down?” said Reid.

The answer came more easily than it should have. “You seem a decent fellow for a vampire,” said Geoffrey. “I’ve seen no evidence of you taking an innocent life.”

He looked back at Carl’s grave and silently cursed the damn doctor again, if only on principle.

“Carl Eldritch,” Reid read the name on the gravestone. “He was the leader of Priwen, was he not? I found some of his writings.”

“Yes,” said Geoffrey. “He raised me after the brutal murder of my parents and taught me how to kill leeches.”

Reid glanced at him. “Were both your parents killed by vampires?”

“Yes, and yet worse. My father returned to Dublin a vampire and tore out my mother’s throat,” said Geoffrey. “Carl killed my father in front of me and helped me hunt down my brother Ian.”

Once again, he tried to recall Ian’s last words. Was it a threat, a plea, or something else entirely? He couldn’t remember. He had been too focused on making himself pull the trigger to listen to his brother.

“I am sorry,” Reid said again.

Geoffrey grunted in response. They needed to stop talking about the past. It was making him uncomfortable. And really, they had more important business to discuss.

“You said in the hospital you were trying to put an end to the epidemic,” he said. “What have you found?”

Reid blinked at the change of subject, but went along with it. “It’s actually the other reason I’m here,” he said. “I need the blood of a King. The blood of Arthur.”

“The Guard’s most sacred and precious relic?” said Geoffrey. “Ah. You found Marshal’s memoirs.”

“I need the antidote to save this city,” said Reid. “And to make the antidote, I need King Arthur’s blood.”

Reid was a lot more assertive when he talked about his science than when he talked about his vampiric abilities, Geoffrey noted.

“I must know more,” he said. “What precisely are your plans?”

“A creature called a ‘Disaster’ is about to be unleashed,” said Reid. “It falls upon me, as once it did Marshal, to stop it before the whole country is ravaged.”

It was unsettling to hear Reid compare himself with William Marshal. That bloody leech was a monster, responsible for countless deaths before his disappearance. 

“I should have destroyed that book,” said Geoffrey. “And yet...”

He had read the memoirs himself and learned of this “Disaster”. While he knew better than to believe everything Marshal had written, he saw no other hope for this city.

“I will go with you,” he declared.

Reid looked taken aback. “What?”

“You were the one who kept saying we could collaborate to end this epidemic, Reid.”

“Yes, and it was thanks to you that I found out about the Disaster and the recipe for the antidote,” said Reid. “But I can’t let you take this risk.”

Geoffrey took a step forward. “Are you saying I can’t fight?”

“No, Geoffrey, but this is more than just fighting,” said Reid. “You have read the memoirs yourself. The Disaster tainted Marshal’s blood. It filled him with rage and drove him to slaughter. The same thing that’s happened to all those poor souls who were turned into Skals by the infection.”

“Isn’t that what the antidote is for?” said Geoffrey. “So you won’t be infected?”

“Do you have any idea how long it takes to develop a vaccine?” said Reid. “All I have is a recipe found in an old book, not to mention I’m using a different set of ingredients than what Marshal had. I am not even sure what counts as the blood of the purest heart and there is no time for experiments. If it doesn’t work, I will be infected like Marshal was.”

“You will become a monster like him,” said Geoffrey.

“Yes.” Reid met his gaze. “And if that happens, you will end me. Promise me, vampire hunter.”

For the first time, Geoffrey realised Reid was afraid, and that in itself frightened him more than he cared to admit.

“I am not letting a doctor take on that monstrosity alone,” snapped Geoffrey. “If it wins, this city will be doomed.”

“So now I’m _just_ a doctor because it suits you?” said Reid with a light chuckle. “I do plan to win, but there are factors out of my control.”

 _The antidote_.

“Promise me, Geoffrey,” Reid pressed.

“You don’t get to order me around, Reid,” said Geoffrey.

But they both knew the argument was over. Reid was a powerful bastard. If anyone could complete this task alone, it would be him. And if he got himself infected and decided to turn on the city he had been trying to protect, Geoffrey doubted there was anyone who could stop him. 

_Except he can feel the power coursing through his veins. He knows powerful leeches always make powerful progenies._

“When you turned me, this wasn’t part of the plan, was it?” said Geoffrey.

Reid looked almost sheepish. “No, it wasn’t.”

Geoffrey shook his head. So Reid really was making it up as he went along. 

_Last hope for this city indeed. God helps them._

He tossed the flask of King Arthur’s blood to Reid. “You better make sure this antidote of yours works, doctor. If you fail, I will hunt you down.”

Reid smiled. “I have no doubt you will, vampire hunter.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (No, brain, we don't have time for a multi-chaptered AU where everything goes wrong.)


End file.
